


Exposé

by Writers_Muse



Series: One-Shots (And Two-Shots) ^_^ [22]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Adrinette, Chat Noir Being Chat Noir, Complete, Crack, Embarrassed Marinette Dupain-Cheng, F/M, Flirty Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Humor, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Marichat, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Identity Reveal, Naked Adrien Agreste, Naked Marinette Dupain-Cheng, ladrien, partial reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-31 08:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21443503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_Muse/pseuds/Writers_Muse
Summary: Pt. 1: When Marinette transformed to go fight an Akuma, she forgot one very important thing.Now, she's detransforming mid-air, and Chat Noir is there to catch her before she falls.More than one thing is about to be exposed.Pt. 2: Chat Noir's ring is counting down, and when it's done, there will be flashing.Ladybug is very displeased to have to come to her partner's rescue inthisway.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: One-Shots (And Two-Shots) ^_^ [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1294469
Comments: 89
Kudos: 727





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Marinette and Adrien are a little older here, probably 17 or so.
> 
> It's crack, it's silly, it's ridiculous.
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> <3

Ladybug casts and pulls and arcs frantically over building after building, her timer running out loud and shrill in her ear.

She has to get home, has to make it through her window, has to get there before her transformation fades, has to-

She knows she won’t.

A blur of greenery and concrete fly by beneath her feet. There’s the honking of traffic, the bustle of millions of people below, the buzz of their conversations with each other, with themselves, with someone invisible on the other side of a satellite signal. Her house is still several blocks away as she peaks in another leap. For a fraction of a moment, her body is suspended in the air, neither falling nor flying, and the last urgent ringing of her earrings, so close to her eardrums, sends a coldness through her body. She can feel the magic start to fade as she begins once again to fall, only this time without anything to anchor her to safety, without-

_ Oh, God_.

All at once, something heavy slams into her, pink sparkles washing over her body starting at the tips of her extremities and traveling up her limbs. In the space of a few seconds, she goes from falling through the open air, to spiraling, and then landing with a loud, breath-stealing thud on something black, warm, and hard.

Marinette’s eyes are squeezed shut, so she can’t see his face, but she knows without a doubt they are her kitty’s gloved hands holding onto her bare skin, his leather-covered body pressed up against hers. He seems out of breath, but in the time it takes him to grunt from the impact and look down at her to make sure she is all right, the air between them, the _ only _ thing between them, shatters.

“Princess!?”

* * *

Chat knows something is wrong as he sees Ladybug take off in a panic. She doesn’t even bother with their customary fist bump after purifying the akuma, but launches away with a wild look in her eyes, the timer on her miraculous already beeping for the third or fourth time. He follows behind warily at a distance and watches as she keeps going, seeming to ignore the fact that in just a few moments, she will no longer have the protection of her mask and suit.

Every moment, he expects she will drop to the ground level behind some building, followed by a flash of pink light. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them has run their timers out to the max, then dropped into an empty, unmonitored alley just as they detransformed. But it is the first time he has seen her doing the mad dash without any apparent intention of actually hiding out before the timer ends. She just keeps going, ignoring the urgent beeping of her miraculous, eyes focused on the horizon instead of scanning the streets below for a safe location. Chat increases his speed, suddenly desperate to reach her before-

The pink flash starts just as Ladybug crests in one of her arcs over the rooftops, and he can wait no longer. At this rate, she isn’t going to land just as she detransforms; she is going to detransform, then fall to the ground as a completely unprotected, fragile sack of bones and internal organs. She’ll be lucky to survive, much less come out unscathed.

He really doesn’t need a cranky Ladybug in a cast, berating him for his carelessness as he inevitably takes a hit for her in their next akuma battle. And, of course, he prefers to have a partner that is actually still _ breathing. _

He extends his baton to its limit, flying into her body and colliding with her as the magic washes over them. He can’t see for a moment because of the brightness, but he knows he is on track to land on a rooftop. Without her suit, she will come out with all sorts of cuts and bruises, no doubt, so he twists their bodies until he is underneath, providing a cushion and hopefully a protective barrier between her and the hard roof.

The impact, coupled with the weight of her body, sends all the air out of his lungs. His breath leaves him in a whoosh, and his eyes are still overcome with the pink flash, but he holds on tightly to the girl (the fragile, untransformed girl) in his arms. It takes a bit of extra effort, but he manages to suck some air back into his lungs, then grunts from the difficulty of the attempt. Spots (_ha, spots_) in his vision dissipate as he looks down, hoping to evaluate whether his lady has any injuries, when he suddenly realizes something.

Ladybug’s eyes are closed tight.

That’s... Marinette’s face.

That’s Marinette’s… everything.

“Princess!?”

The sound of her nickname falling from his lips is dripping with horror. Startled, blushing, and ashamed, Chat Noir swiftly rolls them both over so that their positions are flipped, with his body weight resting on hers, and her form underneath. Marinette involuntarily lets out an _ oof. _

His eyes squeeze shut automatically, but he keeps a firm grip on her upper arms, burying his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Marinette’s eyes fly open when she feels the roof’s hard, rough surface suddenly against her back. It smarts, especially on the shoulder that is used as a pivot point, causing her to frown in irritation.

“Chat Noir-” she begins in a voice full of ire, but he interrupts her.

“Why are you naked?!”

Just then, she is reminded once again of the circumstances of their situation. The reason why she was so desperate to get home. The reason why she couldn’t stop in an alley and safely detransform. The reason she is so horrified to find that not only was her identity as good as compromised, but it wasn’t the only thing getting exposed.

“_Holy shit._”

Chat lets out a strange whine close to her ear.

“Ah…” Marinette flounders, mind completely blank. What is she supposed to do? What is she supposed to say? Without really thinking about it, she raises a hand intuitively and pats him on the back of his shoulder. “Are- are you ok? Chat?”

She can feel his head moving against her, first in a nod, and then in a shake. He releases her arms and places his hands flat on the ground as leverage, framing her upper body, then pushes himself up enough that they can see each other’s faces. He is blushing cherry red, but he is also frowning deeply.

“Princess,” he says again, this time in a much graver tone. “Why. Are you naked.” Then, as if made aware again of her state of undress, he closes his eyes tightly and turns his head partly to the side.

The sky above his head is blue, and luckily for Marinette, the weather is warm. But the surface of the roof is still hard and rough, and she shifts a bit, crushed and uncomfortable as she is pinned beneath Chat’s heavy body.

“_Hhhhhh_.”

Her partner exhales an inarticulate sort of noise, his head dropping slightly.

“Please don’t do that,” he says, voice strained.

She can’t help but frown, irritated. She feels the need to move and find a more comfortable position, but moving itself is uncomfortable because of the surface she is laying on. She can’t exactly ask him to get off, exposed as she is.

“Sorry,” she retorts testily, “the roof is really hard.” She shifts again, something small and troublesome digging into her back and making her flinch.

Chat’s eyes blow open above her, and he levels her with a glare.

“Stop that.”

Marinette narrows her eyes in response.

“You could always get off,” she bites back. But just as those words tumble out of her mouth, something hard starts pressing into her leg close to her hip. She frowns, confused at first, before realization hits full force. “Hey!” She slaps him on the arm before crossing her own over her chest. “What are you thinking?”

The boy above her sighs, his skin turning new shades of crimson she hasn’t seen before. Even the tips of his ears are red. He looks ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he eeks out in a small, tight voice, but he can’t meet her eyes. “I can’t control it. It’s _ biology._”

She huffs, blowing out a raspberry and tossing away the fringe that are stuck on her eyelashes.

“Ok, so-” she halts, licking her lips as she considers, then resumes. “Maybe, if you keep your eyes closed and turn around, I can sort of hide behind you?”

Chat snorts rather inelegantly, but begins to comply. He’s only part way to standing when she yanks him back down. They both exhale forcefully as he lands unexpectedly on her again.

“What the hell, Marinette?”

_ This is not good for my libido, _ he doesn’t say.

“Sorry,” she replies, “I just feel really awkward being naked out here where anyone can see me.”

He leans on an elbow, and even though both his eyes are still closed, one of his eyebrows is arching pointedly. 

“I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?”

Marinette huffs again, thankful he can’t see the way she’s blushing in concession.

“I just took a shower,” she begins petulantly by way of explanation. “I always do yoga and meditate before I get dressed, and I guess I forgot I wasn’t wearing anything when I transformed. It wasn’t until my miraculous started beeping that I remembered I didn’t have any clothes on beneath the suit.”

“You do yoga naked?” he can’t help but ask, baffled.

“Well, yea,” she answers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “It’s so much more comfortable and freeing that way.”

He’s always prided himself on respecting women, but in this moment, Chat can’t stop the images that immediately conjure in his head of Marinette stretching and flexibly posing without any clothes on. The semi he was rocking before is a full hard-on now, and he hangs his head in shame.

“_Hhhhhhh_,” he exhales, then completely and without warning hops off of Marinette’s body.

She shrieks in surprise, doing her best with her two slender arms to cover all the regions of her body that she doesn’t want to expose in public.

“I’m sorry,” he offers and extends a hand her direction, keeping his eyes closed. “I, uh, I think we should find a way to get you dressed and home.”

His arms stays suspended in the air for a few moments as Marinette tries to figure out a way to reach for his hand, stand, and still remain covered. The best she can come up with is to grab on, then pull herself up into a crouching position with her knees drawn tightly to her chest, feet and bum resting on the floor. 

When she’s more or less comfortable, she utters a quiet, “I’m ok.”

Chat lets her hand go, then turns around and slowly opens his eyes.

“I can- I can bring you some clothes. From your house,” he says, breaking the awkward silence that falls on them. “It’s not far, right?”

The truth is, he knows exactly how far it is, but he’s not going to say that. As frazzled as his brain is just trying to process the fact that _ Marinette is Ladybug, oh my God_, and _ I just saw Marinette naked_, and _ oh my God, that means I just saw Ladybug naked_, he’s not sure he’s ready to reciprocate that accidental disclosure with his own identity. One, because Ladybug definitely would chastise him for it, and two, because he’s fully planning on using his friendship with Marinette now to his advantage. All he has to do is find out who she’s crushing on and see if he still stands a chance, right? 

Marinette breaks into his thoughts.

“No, it’s not that far I guess. Could you, please? I wouldn’t ask, but I don’t see any other way of getting down here.” Her voice sounds so dejected, Chat feels guilt creeping up on him at the way he’s already planning to take advantage of the situation. “I’m really sorry, Chat,” she finishes, and there’s definitely a thickness to her voice.

He doesn’t care suddenly that she’s sitting naked behind him, or that who she is under the mask turns out to be someone so close to him in his own personal life. He spins and falls to his knees in one fluid movement, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” She sniffles and shudders a bit against him, and he decides then and there that he’s going to be there for her no matter what happens in the future. His gloved hands rub against her back, and she buries her face in his shoulder, but doesn’t resist.

“I’ve made a mess, haven’t I?” she says, more to herself than to him.

“So what? Making a mess is kind of my thing, you know, so it’s nice to see that I’m rubbing off on you.”

She pulls back, a look of horror on her face.

“Not like that!” he rushes to assure her. There’s a panic in his eyes. “Ah! I mean! I didn’t mean that to sound dirty! Dammit!”

The tip of her nose is red, and the skin around her eyes is a bit splotchy, but the color of her irises matches the blue of the sky around them. Her soggy face breaks into a smile, then a giggle, and she sniffs a little as she laughs.

“I know what you mean, Chaton. Thank you.”

“Hey.” He takes a risk and tucks a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so their eyes are in line with each other. “You’re allowed to mess up, too, you know.”

She shrugs and averts her eyes, releasing a self-deprecating laugh.

“Maybe, but not this epically.”

Chat shrugs in return.

“Why not?”

But she has no reply for that, just stares off into the distance. A cool breeze begins to blow, causing Marinette to shiver.

“Hey, wait here for a second.”

Chat stands up abruptly and ducks behind a brick wall, followed by some muttered words and a flash of green light.

Marinette is astounded, but says nothing. What can she say to him? She’s literally sitting naked in the middle of a rooftop after losing her transformation midair. She’s lucky no one has seen them yet.

The sound of some low, heated exchanges reaches her ears, but she can’t be sure what’s being said. She’s pretty sure she hears the word “camembert,” and one of the voices--Plagg, she assumes--gives a whine. Within a couple of minutes, there’s another phrase, louder this time, and a repeat of the green flash. When Chat re-emerges from his hiding place, he’s holding a white overshirt and a pair of jeans.

“Here,” he says, draping the white shirt over her shoulders. It’s a bit loose, she can tell already, and it has a familiar smell, but she can’t immediately place it. Then, with a blush, he holds up the pants, and says, stuttering, “Uh, y-you can p-put these on yourself.”

She gives him a half smile, shoving her arms through the shirt sleeves carefully without unfolding the rest of her body, keeping herself hidden. Then she accepts the pants and waits for Chat to turn around, tucking her feet carefully into the legs and slowly drawing them up her body until she has to stretch to put them on the rest of the way. When she stands and buttons them, they hang low and baggy on her hips. Hearing her rise, Chat cautiously opens his eyes and takes in the sight of her.

The looseness of his clothes on her body reminds him a bit of a child playing dress up. He’s always been slim (he kind of has to be as a model and with the amount of activity he gets as a superhero), but Marinette is _ tiny_. He can’t help but chortle. Her arms cross over her chest, causing the pants she is sort of holding up to fall slightly. She has to drop the pose to grab and pull them up again. Chat’s sniggers turn into cackles.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, though he is still laughing. He flaps both hands illustratively while he gets himself under control. “You just look so cute.”

He says it sincerely, and he’s smiling when he does. Marinette can’t suppress the flush rising in her cheeks, so she averts her gaze.

“Well,” she clears her throat, “are you just going to stand there, or are you going to take me home?”

The blond cocks his head to the side and wonders to himself what he has to do to make her blush like that again.

But that isn’t what he says.

“Ready when you are.”

She nods her head curtly, and he turns around, offering his back. The tiny noirette climbs on a bit clumsily, but he curls his gloved fingers behind her knees and hikes her up higher until she’s sitting more comfortably. Her arms cross in front of his neck, and he ignores the way her proximity is making his heart flutter. With one final hike and a clearing of the throat, he asks, “Ready?”

“Mm.” She nods again. Her chin tucks into his shoulder with the effort, and they’re off.

It’s only six or seven blocks from there to her bedroom terrace, and the trip takes less than a minute when the mode of transportation is hopping over rooftops. Marinette feels a bit irked that she was so close to home when her transformation failed her. But she’s grateful that Chat caught her in time all the same, even if it came with quite a bit of embarrassment and a compromised identity.

Which reminds her. She has to schedule a freak out session when this is all over.

As he drops her onto the balcony, she can’t help but turn and say, “Would you like to come in? I need to change, and then I can give your clothes back to you.”

Chat shrugs, nonchalant.

“It doesn’t matter. You can keep them for now. I can pick them up any time. Remember,” he says, tapping the side of his nose with a gloved finger. “I know where you live now.”

Marinette scoffs to hide her self-consciousness, but the coloring in her cheeks gives her away.

“Yea, well, that doesn’t mean you can just show up whenever you want,” she retorts.

Chat is turning to launch himself off of the roof, but he faces her again and grins that Chesire grin.

“Oh, princess, you have no idea.”

* * *

It’s a few weeks later, and Marinette is up in her room working on another gift to add to the collection she has of future presents for Adrien. There’s a tapping below the trapdoor in her floor, followed by her mother’s voice.

“Sweetheart, your friend is here to see you!”

She’s not even facing the door, but she knows Alya must have arrived a little earlier than she planned. She’s tucking the present into a box and closing the pre-wrapped lid when she calls, “Ok, send them up!”

The creak in her floor tells her someone has entered her room, but Alya is such a close friend she doesn’t even feel the need to turn around.

“Sorry, I’m just finishing another gift for Adrien,” she remarks flippantly. “This time, it’s for our tenth wedding anniversary!” Despite her best efforts, she can’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

“Oh?”

The voice is all wrong, and it’s with wide, terrified eyes that Marinette whips around and backs up subconsciously against the edge of her desktop.

“Adrien!” she squeaks. How can she play this off? Marinette’s nervous laugh borders on neurotic, but she pushes through. “I- I thought you were Alya. That was- I mean- it’s a joke with us, because of th-”

But Adrien is stalking slowly closer, his eyes narrowed and lips smirking.

“You know, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to you lately,” he says. The startled girl’s brain comes to a halt.

“You have?” There’s that squeak again.

He’s two paces in front of her now, close enough for her to catch his scent. It’s a mix of soap and cologne and something uniquely him. And it niggles at her with its familiarity. The golden hues of his hair reflect light from her lamp as he nods in answer.

“You don’t treat me like everyone else.”  
  
“What?” 

Is she even a human? Maybe she should use the mouse miraculous full time. She has the voice to match.

“Mhm.” Something flashes behind his look, but he keeps it well hidden. She can only guess at what he’s thinking. “You get very skittish around me, and for a while I just thought maybe you didn’t like me. Then I thought it was because of my father. But now, I think-” He pauses, leaning closer until he’s close enough for yellow flecks to appear in his green irises. His smirk widens. “I think you have a crush on me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

All the color drains from Marinette’s face while she stands there, too paralyzed to move. She can hear a ringing in her ears that coincides with a pounding in her chest, and for the first time in her life, she contemplates transforming just so she can make a quick escape.

“But if you’re afraid of telling me, then I think it’s only fair that I tell you first: you’re not just a friend, Marinette.” His features soften, then, and he reaches out to grab her hand. “Is… that ok?” He sounds so unsure all of a sudden, she can’t help but nod. “Do you… feel the same?” She nods again, much more enthusiastically this time. He throws his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into a hug. “That’s great,” he breathes. His nose tickles from the feeling of her blue-black hair brushing against it. She instinctively wraps her own arms around his middle in reciprocation and rests her forehead against his chest. “Because there’s one more thing I have to ask you.”

She pulls back a bit, frowning in confusion, until she can see his face. His smiles widely, mischievous, so familiar.

“Do you still have my clothes?

Her brows furrow some more, and she tilts her head. Adrien’s twinkling eyes dart to the side, and she follows his gaze until she, too, is looking in the same direction. Both pairs, emerald and bluebell, land on the same object: a folded white overshirt resting atop a pair of jeans. She cocks her head a little further, cogs turning within as the pieces start to fit. When the epiphany strikes, her eyes grow impossibly round.

Marinette’s screech can be heard from the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intend to write a part 2 to this, similar in theme (but reversed) ;)
> 
> Also, Tikki just kind of gets ignored,so my bad lol. She didn’t really serve a purpose but I probably should have considered her anyway 🤷♀️
> 
> If you liked that, please let me know in the comments!
> 
> <3 Muse


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir's ring is counting down, and when it's done, there will be flashing.
> 
> Ladybug is very displeased to have to come to her partner's rescue in _this_ way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a reversal of the Exposé!
> 
> Please enjoy ^_^

“So, let me get this straight.”

Ladybug’s yo-yo pulls taut and swings both her and her partner over the rooftops as fast as physically possible, Chat holding on tightly. As if to mock her, his ring beeps loudly in her ear.

“You’ve lost your baton, you’re about to detransform, _ and you’re not wearing any clothes?!” _

God, if she had an arm free, she would slap him with every bit of her superhero strength as payment for the wide, unrepentant grin he gives her. It doesn’t help that his face is centimeters from hers, the entirety of his body--his imminently _ nude _ body--is wrapped around hers like a cat-monkey hybrid. 

Skin-tight leather suit seems like an incredibly appropriate costume choice for him right now. 

“What are you, a nudist?”

“What can I say?” he returns, and _ why is he still grinning!? _ “Guess I’m just not that bashful.”

Ladybug huffs and directs her attention out at the buildings they’re flying over, acutely and horrifyingly aware that his ring has just beeped a fourth time. Why did he have to use Cataclysm this time? It turned out to be a waste, anyway. 

“I should drop your naked ass in the nearest alleyway like the stray you are,” she grumbled.

Chat’s arms tighten a little around her neck, pulling him closer to her ear.

“Then you would miss out on the show~”

“Ugh!”

She whips her head to face him, distracted by her irritation for only a moment, but it’s enough. She recognizes her mistake a little too late as she misses the next awning and promptly, uncomfortably, plummets into (thankfully) an alleyway. They barely even touch the cobblestones before Chat’s ring lets out its final, frantic beep, and his body is overcome with a flash of green.

The scarlet hero automatically shields her eyes, caught somewhere emotionally between panic and being complete, utterly _ done_. A nasal voice, clearly not her partner’s, starts cackling somewhere in front of her.

“You’ve really done it this time, kid!”

“Yea, yea,” the blond mutters. There’s a rustling on the ground as though someone is rising up from a sitting position, and Ladybug stretches out one arm in alarm, though she remembers to keep her eyes closed.

“Wait! Don’t move! Don’t even- ah!”

The hand she is holding out is immediately retracted, but it stays suspended in the space in front of her chest, bent at the elbow.

“Ah! I’m sorry!”

Chat’s laughter can be heard from not far in front of her.

“My lady! That’s sexual assault! You have to warn a man before you reach for his-”

“OK!” She cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, to the sound of his renewed guffaws. 

He can barely even speak through the spasms in my stomach, but manages to tack on: “Well, it’s worth it to see your face finally matching your suit.”

Ladybug slowly lowers the contaminated appendage to the ground and scowls, though it’s hidden behind her other hand.

“Chat!” she chastises, only to be shushed.

“Shhh,” he says, and it’s clear he’s still laughing a little. “You’re going to attract attention, and believe me when I say, you do _ not _ want anyone to catch me like this. I’m not just a cool cat in the suit.” Could he sound more smug? “I happen to be pretty well-known as myself as well.”

All she can do is shake her head and curse her supposed good luck.

When this is all over, she and Tikki are going to have some words.

“Just- just… get behind a dumpster or something.”

There’s his chuckle again, and she’s starting to hate the sound of it.

“Sorry to disappoint, bugaboo, but there _ are _ no dumpsters in this alley. Although,” and then he pauses briefly. “That gives new meaning to a cigarette butt.”

Ladybug shudders, but keeps her eyes stubbornly closed.

“Ok, so-” she attempts to rise, but it's more difficult than expected when vision is taken out of the equation. She stretches out her unoccupied hand for balance, flinching when she feels it grasped in someone else’s. “Ah… thanks.” With Chat’s help, she reaches a standing position, then lets out a grunt of frustration. This is the point when she would usually look around to formulate a plan.

“Can you speed it up, pigtails? I’m starving~” Plagg’s nasal whine grates even more on her nerves.

“I’m thinking!” she snaps.

The kwami murmurs to his chosen: “_Geez, and I thought you were dramatic._”

Chat makes a strange noise that sounds suspiciously like a snicker, but she ignores it.

“Ok, so… we have to get you some clothes, and then we have to get your kwami some.. cheese? Plagg likes cheese, right?”

“YES!”

“And then-” she goes on, ignoring the tiny cat’s outburst, “you can take yourself home, and I just have to avoid seeing your… face.”

“I hate to break it to you, spots,” underneath their lids, Ladybug’s eyes roll at Plagg’s nickname, “but A- ah, the kid can’t go anywhere like this, and even if he _ did _ manage to get some clothes, his face will be on social media everywhere within minutes, his pampered behind locked in a fancy prison for the rest of his lonely life when his father finds out he snuck out of his house. And you don’t even want to consider what will happen if he finds out his golden boy was out and about in public _ naked_, capiche?”

Ladybug chews her lower lip, contemplating. Is Chat’s home life really that bad? Does he have to sneak out to fight akumas… every time? She glosses over the revelation that he is apparently famous, or at least recognizable, and does her best to ignore the factoid about his helicopter parent(s?) as it is starting to feel way too familiar. For a moment, she shifts back and forth on her feet.

“Plagg, do you think you could sneak off and find some cheese somewhere?”

Plagg makes a show (sound?) of loudly sniffing the air. 

“No can do, pigtails,” he answers in his best snobbish voice. “I can smell a chunk of cheese from a mile away, and currently there is none within at least a two block radius.” Ladybug groans and wishes she could drag her hands down her face to demonstrate her reaction. “That’s what you get for landing in an industrial district with no restaurants nearby.”

She’s fighting a losing battle against a deepening frown. 

“Could you be less picky and find something else to eat?”

He’s silent for several seconds, and her patience is running thin. 

“What’s he doing?” she finally snaps to her partner. She can’t see him but she would bet most of her saved allowance he is standing by nonchalantly while the two of them try to find a way out of his predicament. 

“Ah, he’s… pouting.”

“Am not!”

“Ugh.” Ladybug groans. If her only safe hand wasn’t already shielding her vision, she would facepalm. “I’m going to sneak to another alleyway, detransform, and give you Tikki’s cookie, ok?”

“But if you do that, how will you be able to transform again and bring it to me?”

Somewhere, crickets are chirping.

“And besides, didn’t you already use when your lucky charm failed? Or… sorry. Not failed. You didn’t use it in less than five minutes and had to recharge.”

“Agh! Fine! I’m going to call for another lucky charm, and dammit Chat Noir! You better hope it conjures some clothes or cheese or _ something._”

“Like I’d eat spotty fake cheese,” Plagg huffs.

“Plagg!” Chat Noir reprimands at the same time Ladybug cries, “Shut up!”

A few tense seconds of silence follow.

“Ok, so… here goes nothing.”

“Wait-”

A hand on her upraised arm stops Ladybug just before she tosses her yo-yo.

“Once you do that, you only have five minutes before we’re _ both _ exposed.”

She never thought she would feel frustrated not being able to see her partner’s face.

“Yes, Chaton,” she says, but it comes out snippier than she intends, so she pauses and tries again. Her voice comes out softer the second time around. “Thanks for being considerate, but I’m very aware of my time limit. And I promise, I won’t leave you alone.”

A warm hand grabs onto hers and squeezes. She knows it’s completely bare flesh, and it makes her wish she could feel it.

“Ok,” she says again, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. Chat relinquishes her hand. She can feel him take a step back. She inhales again and tosses her yo-yo up with all her hope and force of will, calling, “Lucky Charm!” It’s pure muscle memory that has her extending her open hand and catching the object in her palm.

It feels small, flat, and thin in her hand, like paper. _ Not clothes, then_, she internally grumbles.

“What… is it?” she eventually asks, but there’s a hesitation in her voice that speaks of her reluctance to know.

Chat seems to laughing incredulously, and Plagg is cackling somewhere off to the side.

“Ah, it’s a-” she feels him reach out and retrieve the object from her hand. There’s rustling as he inspects it for a moment. “It’s a… poncho. Like those plastic disposable ponchos you find in convenience stores. And, of course, it’s red with black spots.”

Ladybug can’t help but sigh. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than having a naked teen boy traipsing around Paris with her while she attempts to figure out how to get him home _ without actually learning where that is. _

“Ok, just… wear that for now. I’ll see if I can find some cheese.”

Her earrings choose that moment to beep, taking her by surprise.

“Frick!”

She jumps where she’s standing to the laughter and delight of her partner and his kwami. More rustling can be heard from Chat’s general direction as he presumably dons the questionably lucky poncho. Sighing, she turns what she can guesses is about 180 degrees.

“Am I… Can I open my eyes now?”

“You won’t see me facing that direction if that’s what you’re asking,” he says. His voice drifts over from somewhere behind her, and she can’t help noticing it sounds a little disappointed.

“Right. Ok.” She trusts him, but she has to take a breath for courage anyway before slowly opening her eyes.

The light of day is bright, too bright for eyes that have been looking into darkness for several minutes. She squints and flattens her fingers out to form a visor over her brows. Her earrings beep again. Three minutes left.

“I need to find you cheese fast.” Her mind starts calculating, and she steps forward toward the alley’s exit. Where the nearest place she can think of? Any cheese will do--she doesn’t have time to be picky, and neither does Plagg. She thinks she remembers seeing a boulangerie half a kilometer or so away. With her yo-yo, she can make it there and back in under two minutes. That gives her less than a minute to get the cheese. She can only hope there’s no wait. Her arm extends, just about to cast off, when she feels it gripped and held back.

“Chat!”

She’s about to whirl around on him, but at the last second, remembers he’s not wearing a mask, and stops herself.

“Wait, Ladybug-” Why does he sound desperate? “Please, don’t leave. You said you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Well I- but, Chaton- I have to get this for you, and you can’t go out like that. People will see you. Your father-”

“I don’t care about that. He can do whatever he wants to me, I don’t care. I’ll go with you, even if I look like an idiot walking around in this, it doesn’t matter. Just _ please _ don’t leave me alone.”

It’s real, true desperation. She can feel it in the anxious grip of his fingers on her wrist, tight like he’s terrified she’ll disappear, but stiff as though he’s trying to hold back. She stands there for a moment, torn and undecided, and her earrings beep again. There’s no way she’ll make it back in time. But she can’t stay here, either, or he’ll see her, too, in less than two minutes.

Ladybug allows him to pull her deeper into the alley, but she keeps her back to him. When they’re far enough in the shadows to be difficult to see from the mouth of the alley, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. His body is trembling, so she brushes off the fact that there’s only her suit and a thin layer of plastic separating his naked form from hers. He rests his forehead against the protuberance of vertebra at the base of her neck.

She can see his arms, now. The sleeves of the poncho apparently don’t extend too far, and his lean, pale arms are covered in tiny, almost invisible blond hairs. His right hand has a silver ring, and she immediately averts her gaze from it. It looks familiar, and she doesn’t want to know.

“You know,” she finally ventures when it feels like his shaking is under control. Her voice is soft, soothing. “In a minute, I’m going to lose my transformation, too, and then where will we be?”

“I don’t care,” he breathes into her hair, sending tingles all down her spine.

She can’t help it-- she snorts. It’s half nervous and half incredulous, and it breaks the tension.

“I do!”

He laughs at that, a breathy sound. Is he breathing ok? She pays attention to the feeling of his chest expanding with every inhale, collapsing as he releases the air from his lungs. It’s steady, and she’s relieved.

Her earrings beep again. Is that one minute left?

“We’re in a pickle now, aren’t we?” she asks. His shoulders slump against her back, and he nuzzles her neck.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“This is all my fault-”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” she interrupts. Her kitty has a bad habit of placing responsibility on himself when things go wrong. She will beat herself up later for drilling that habit into him in the past, but for now, she’s doing her best to make up for her own role in reinforcing that behavior. “If you really want to get right down to it, it’s Hawkmoth’s fault, isn’t it? One of these days, I’m going to write him an open, anonymous letter telling him just what I think of his part time hobby. Is his life so boring that he has to amuse himself by trying to steal jewelry from children?” Chat exhales a laugh. A few quiet seconds pass.

“Hey, bug?”

“Yea?”

“Could you sit up a bit for a second?”

“Oh! Ok.” She leans forward, wondering what is the jostling going on behind her. She can’t look, and it’s never been so frustrating in her life. Before long, though, her vision is taken over by red and black, and she’s surprised to find that the poncho is being draped over her.

“Chat, what are you-”

Her earrings give a final beep, and her transformation disappears in a flash of pink. Tikki disappears into her purse without a word. Surprised by the sudden change, Marinette gasps.

“You don’t want me to know who you are,” he says, simple and quiet.

“Well, yea, but- But Chat, I’m at least wearing clothes! You’re naked, and-”

“So,” he interrupts, matter-of-fact. “I don’t care. I’d rather be exposed for all the world to see than you reveal your identity to me against your own wishes. We both know I couldn’t care less if you know who I am. I wish you knew. I wish you wanted to. You matter more to me than anything, though.”

There are tears running down her cheeks now, and she looks down at her side, her slender, exposed fingers reaching out in offering. In the peripheral of her vision, his own hand appears, and he intertwines his digits with hers. For several moments, neither of them knows what to say.

“I like your pants. They’re very pink,” Chat eventually cuts in awkwardly. Marinette laughs, a thick, wet laugh, then sniffs. “I have a friend who always wears pants like that.”

She gives a wry smile, turning her head to the side. All she can see is the inside of her poncho hood.

“Thanks. I made them myself.”

Chat inhales sharply, and lifts the hand of hers that he’s holding up higher. Her nails are painted all a soft pink, with small white flowers. On her ring finger is a cursive M scrawled in black polish. Hanging on her wrist is Adrien’s lucky charm bracelet.

“_Marinette_,” he breathes, awed.

She whirls her entire body around, too shocked to remember exactly _ why _ she’s not looking at her partner right now. The fact that both of them are exposed in different ways and de-masked only reoccurs to her after she’s seen his face.

“_Adrien?!_”

It comes out as a shrill whisper-shout, and she immediately slaps her hands over her eyes again as if that will make their identities secret again. There’s too much going on in her head, and she can’t think. She’s been standing around staring into the dark for too long--she needs clarity.

Her head is bowed, and her hand acting as a visor to hide her face (rather superfluously) from her partner, but when she opens her eyes, she realizes that her gaze is actually directed downward, and the particular _ thing _ they’re focusing on is… well it’s not something she thought she’d see at this point in her life. Her lids slam shut almost instantaneously, but she can’t unsee that. Then something occurs to her. She reopens them, tilting her head to the side.

“Adrien… what is that?”

She looks up again at his face, which is turning cherry red.

“Marinette,” he whispers, his voice strangled, almost whining. Both his hands reach forward to cup his groin. “You can’t look at that and then ask that question.”

Plagg is somewhere behind Adrien, cackling so hard, she wonders if kwamis get sore abdominal muscles.

“Well, I mean,” she gestures widely with a hand, “it’s not like I’m seeing _ it. _ It’s covered. Is that like a snuggie for d-”

“Please don’t say that!”

She stops, jaw hanging open mid-word. There’s mirth rising in her eyes, and she can feel laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“Are you- are you _ embarrassed_, mon chaton?” Adrien glances briefly up at her, the flush of his face turning a few shades darker. She raises an eyebrow. “What happened to, ‘I guess I’m not that bashful?’ I thought you didn’t want me to ‘miss the show?’”

“That was when I didn’t know it was _ you,_” he mutters, dropping his gaze and curling in a bit on himself.

Marinette swallows then, the smile falling off her face. She straighten and backs away a step, likewise averting her eyes.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. She reaches for the hem of the poncho and begins to pulls it over her head, then holds it out to the boy in front of her without looking his way. “Sorry if you’re disappointed. Sorry I’m just Marinette. We can pretend this never happened, if you want.”

But he doesn’t take the poncho, and her arm is suspended in the air for several seconds before she chances a look his way. He’s looking at her with those familiar green eyes with an expression that she’s only seen on Chat Noir. Now that she thinks about it, they’re identical. How can she call herself his partner when she’s been missing this for as long as they’ve known each other?

“I’m not disappointed it’s you, at all,” he says, and it’s sincere, it’s earnest, it’s desperate. “You being Marinette completely exceeds any expectations I could have imagined. You’re not- You’re not _ just _ Marinette. You’re not even _ just _ Ladybug. Both of them are indescribable on their own. Together?” 

He lets the thought hang there as he reaches out, cautiously, and accepts the poncho, pulling it over his head while Marinette looks away, blushing. Before she realizes what’s happening, she’s drawn into his arms again. The knowledge that his--mostly--naked body is now only separated from hers by a thin layer of plastic and _ non-magical clothes _, her cheeks burn crimson. Adrien pulls back, then laughs at her expression.

“Come on, buginette.” He takes off for the alley’s exit, pulling her behind him. "I believe we’re in need of cheese and… cookies?”

“Wait- Adrien-”

She resists, and he stops immediately, turning expectantly.

“You can’t go out like that. Your father-” Her sentence stops mid-way, the reason Chat has such a difficult homelife suddenly dawning on her. All color in her faces immediately drains, leaving her pale. “Oh my god, _ your father- _”

“It’s ok, hey, breathe, Marinette-”

She realizes she is not, in fact, breathing, and begins flapping her hands in front of her own face, focusing on drawing in a deep breath before slowly letting it out again. Adrien is ducking down a bit to her eye level. It’s a bit comical, looking at him in that ridiculous red and black spotted poncho, but she doesn’t have enough air in her lungs to laugh about it. Still, it grounds her, and she soon is taking much fuller breaths.

Then there’s a flash of determination in her eyes, a sly smile on her face, and she’s tightening her grip on his hand.

“I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:
> 
> “Adrien.”
> 
> Gabriel Agreste practically storms into his sons room and slaps some papers down onto the boy’s desktop. The younger male pivots in his chair, eyebrows raised.
> 
> “Yes, father?”
> 
> He can practically see the steam coming out of his father’s nostrils.
> 
> “What is the meaning of this?” the older Agreste demands.
> 
> Adrien looks down at the paper- photos, it appears. They’re of him in Ladybug’s poncho the day before, and from the looks of it, they’re printed from social media. In one, he’s smiling widely, giving the camera a thumbs up, with his other arm around Marinette’s shoulders.
> 
> The caption under says, “Sizzlin’ In the Rain: Agreste Heir and Brand Representative Promotes Father’s Charity Fashion Promotion.”
> 
> “It looks like you’re getting some good publicity there, father. Donating to the akuma victim fund is very admirable. And you’re showing your support for Ladybug and Chat Noir at the same time. Paris seems very appreciative.”
> 
> “And why aren’t you wearing anything underneath?”
> 
> Younger meets older’s gaze.
> 
> “It’s more than I was wearing for your shoot earlier in the day.”
> 
> Gabriel narrows his eyes at his son. It’s not like his words aren’t true. The stock in Gabriel did suddenly rise, and his designers have been receiving emails nonstop since the photos were posted online asking how to order the “limited edition” raincoats. Internally, he wants to cringe. Ponchos are the worst kind of rainwear possible. How could his brand be associated with them? But there is no denying the benefits it has reaped from this incident.
> 
> Lost for words, he grunts disdainfully, then turns on his heel and storms back out.


End file.
